of the lion, and to claim credit for having discovered, in the bone caves of England, the remains of an animal of greater bulk than any living species, that may have possessed all the qualities which the most ardent admirer of the British lion could desire[58]! [Footnote 58: Livingstone purposed to bequeath to Professor Owen a somewhat extraordinary legacy. Writing afterward to his friend Mr. Young, he said: "If I die at home I would lie beside you. My left arm goes to Professor Owen, mind. That is the will of David Livingstone."] On no topic was the applause of the company more enthusiastic than when mention was made of Mrs. Livingstone, who was then preparing to accompany her husband on his journey. Livingstone's own words to the company were simple and hearty, but they were the words of truth and soberness. He was overwhelmed with the kindness he had experienced. He did not expect any speedy result from the Expedition, but he was sanguine as to its ultimate benefit. He thought they would get in the thin end of the wedge, and that it would be driven home by English energy and spirit. For himself, with all eyes resting upon him, he felt under an obligation to do better than he had ever done. And as to Mrs. Livingstone: "It is scarcely fair to ask a man to praise his own wife, but I can only say that when I parted from her at the Cape, telling her that I should return in two years, and when it happened that I was absent four years and a half, I supposed that I should appear before her with a damaged character. I was, however, forgiven. My wife, who has always been the main spoke in my wheel, will accompany me in this expedition, and will be most useful to me. She is familiar with the languages of South Africa. She is able to work. She is willing to endure, and she well knows that in that country one must put one's hand to everything. In the country to which I am about to proceed she knows that at the missionary's station the wife must be the maid-of-all-work within, while the husband must be the jack-of-all-trades without, and glad am I indeed that I am to be accompanied by my guardian angel." Of the many letters of adieu he received before setting out we have space for only two. The first came from the venerable Professor Sedgwick, of Cambridge, in the form of an apology for inability to attend the farewell banquet. It is a beautiful unfolding of the head and heart of the Christian philosopher, and must have been singularly welcome to Livingstone, whose views on some of the greatest subjects of thought were in thorough harmony with those of his friend: